Trudi Canavan - The Rogue

Akami frowned as he considered this.

“He’s right.”

Lorkin turned to see that Master Chatiko was awake, rubbing at his eyes. “The Palace will need to be told Lord Lorkin has returned, but they don’t need him hanging about waiting for the king to emerge.” Chatiko yawned. “And it’s likely to be a waste of everyone’s time, since Lord Lorkin is probably obliged to consult with the Ambassador before speaking to the king.”

Akami looked thoughtful. He nudged Master Voriko with a foot, and the young Sachakan roused himself reluctantly.

“What do you think, Vori? Take Lorkin to the Palace or the Guild House?”

Voriko had to be asked three times before he was awake enough to understand. He looked from Lorkin back to Akami, his eyebrows raised in an expression that suggested his friend was an idiot.

“Take him to the Guild House, of course. They won’t even let him in the Palace, in that state. They mightn’t even recognise him.”

Akami shrugged, then nodded. He tapped on the roof again. “Take us to the Guild House.”

As the carriage turned, Lorkin caught a glimpse of the crossroad they had been heading toward. The trees and flowers were familiar. It was the parade that led to the Palace.

That was close.

He hoped he didn’t look too relieved.

A wait followed, in which all but Lorkin and Akami fell asleep again. When the carriage finally passed through the gate of the Guild House, Lorkin let out what he hoped was a silent sigh of relief.

“Here you are, Lord Lorkin,” Akami said, opening the door with magic. The others woke and sat up. “Welcome back.”

“Thank you,” Lorkin said. “Thank you for bringing me home, too.”

Akami smiled and patted Lorkin on the shoulder as he started down the carriage steps. “We’ll let the Palace know you’re back.”

Lorkin turned and watched the carriage leave. The Guild House slaves pushed gates closed behind it. He turned around to see two slaves lying face-down on the ground. One was the door slave, he remembered.

“Get up,” he ordered.

The two slaves rose, keeping their eyes downcast. He felt a long-forgotten disgust and anger at their situation, followed by curiosity. Were either of these men Traitor spies?

“I am Lord Lorkin, Ambassador Dannyl’s assistant,” he said. “Take me to Ambassador Dannyl.”

“Ambassador Dannyl is not here,” the door slave said.

“Oh. Well. Take me inside. I’d like a wash and some clean robes.”

The door slave beckoned and headed for the Guild House. Lorkin followed, feeling strangely powerful waves of sentimentality at the sight of the Master’s Room and the rendered, curved walls.

I made it. I’m finally back where it all started.

The slave paused to whisper to a female slave. She nodded and hurried away. A less pleasant memory rose as the door slave led him into his old rooms: a memory of a dead woman, lying naked on his bed. That room was dark. The slave led him into a different bedroom in the suite, then prostrated himself. Lorkin told him to go.

Lorkin created a globe light, looked around and nodded. It had been very considerate of the slave to choose another room.

The female slave returned with a large bowl of water and some towels, then left. Another brought a set of robes. Lorkin warmed the water with magic, then stripped off the hunter’s tunic and began to wash.

A sound drew his attention back to the doorway. He expected another slave, but instead found himself staring at a woman in green robes. She was staring at him with equal astonishment, and a little hostility.

Then it occurred to him who she must be.

“You’re my replacement,” he exclaimed. A woman assistant? Here in Sachaka? He felt instant admiration at her courage in volunteering for the role.

She blinked, then understanding dawned. “Lord Lorkin! You’re back!”

He nodded. “Yes. Where’s Ambassador Dannyl?”

She rolled her eyes. “In Duna, having a nice time getting to know the locals. He left me all alone to deal with anything that turned up.” Her gaze dropped to the hunter’s trousers, then back to his face. “Like you.”

Duna! It could take weeks before he gets back. What will I do if the king summons me before Dannyl returns?

“I’m Merria, by the way,” she said. She smiled. “I’ll let you finish. When you’re ready, send one of the slaves to let me know. I’ll be in the Master’s Room. We had better work out what we’re going to do. Do you need to get some sleep first?”

“No, but some food would be nice.”

She nodded. “I’ll arrange it.”

Waking from a doze, Dannyl looked around the cabin. Soft snores were coming from Tayend’s bed. The ship’s pitching and rolling was still pronounced, but it had stopped shuddering and groaning for some time now. Dannyl had no idea how much time had passed. More than a few days, he suspected.

He heard a heavy footstep, then realised that this was what had woken him. The cabin door opened. Achati paused at the threshold, then let go of the door frame, staggered forward and grabbed the edge of his bed. He crawled onto it and collapsed, face down.

Dannyl got out of the chair and approached the Sachakan.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

Achati groaned, then sighed. “Yes. Just … tired.” He rolled over onto his back with an effort. “Storm’s passed. Go look, if you like.”

Holding back a chuckle, Dannyl left through the open door, closing it behind him. He climbed the short, steep stair to the upper deck, pushing through the hatch into sunlight.

The few slaves still about stood with sagging shoulders, holding onto ropes or railing as if too weak to support themselves. The captain sat watching as another slave held the wheel, dark shadows under his eyes. As the man’s eyes met Dannyl’s, he nodded. Dannyl returned the gesture. A faint smile pulled at the captain’s lips, then disappeared.

Glancing around the ship, Dannyl saw no sign of damage. Looking beyond, he saw that the skies to the south-east were dark with cloud. The edge of the storm, he guessed, moving away from them.

From the position of the sun, he reckoned it was mid-afternoon. The coast was visible to the right. A featureless land fringed by a short, eroding cliff. He considered the height of the latter thoughtfully. On the journey north he’d noted how the cliffs had grown steadily higher. If he could spot something now to indicate scale, he might be able to estimate how far from Arvice they were.

“Are we there yet?”

Surprised, Dannyl turned to see Tayend stepping through the hatch onto the deck. The Elyne looked tired and sick, but not as tired as Achati and not as sick as Tayend would have been if Dannyl hadn’t been Healing away his seasickness since leaving Duna.

“I have no idea,” Dannyl confessed.

“Achati’s asleep.” Tayend moved to stand beside Dannyl and looked around. “Storm’s passed.”

His observations didn’t seem to need an answer, so Dannyl stayed silent. They stared out at the sea. In comfortable, companionable silence , Dannyl thought, but he found that the longer neither of them spoke, the more aware he was of Tayend’s presence.

“How are you feeling?” he asked eventually.

“Not too bad.” Tayend shrugged. “I’ll probably take some more of that cure soon.”

“You don’t have to,” Dannyl assured him.

“No, it’s fine. I could do with the sleep.”

Dannyl nodded. “So, did you enjoy the trip?”

Tayend didn’t answer, and when Dannyl turned to look at him he saw the Elyne’s lips were pursed in thought.

“Yes and no,” Tayend replied. “I’m a bit disappointed I spent so much of it drugged. When we got to Duna it was better, though that ride up the canyon trail was rather unnerving. The tribes were interesting, but we only stayed a day and they only spoke to you.”